


something more than nothing

by hellokatzchen (Bether)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Chaptered, Comment Fic, F/M, Not Beta Read, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-07
Updated: 2010-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bether/pseuds/hellokatzchen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Near-death experiences have a way of forcing people to evaluate their life choices. (Or how Christine Chapel and Leonard McCoy met and the unexpected way life happens.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I & II

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as part of the [McCoy/Chapel Comment Fic Meme](http://mccoy-chapel.livejournal.com/67553.html) on livejournal.
> 
> **ETA:** Edited the fic in October 2013; fixed it up, changed some dialogue, etc. but no major plot changes.
> 
> **Prompt:** "I'll never be the same - if we ever meet again/Won't let you get away-ay - say, if we ever meet again/This free fall's, got me so/Kiss me all night, don't ever let me go/I'll never be the same/if we ever meet again"
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of CBS/Paramount/Gene Roddenberry. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Please don't sue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during McCoy's first and second years at the Academy. Chapel's perspective.

**i.**

It wasn't the perfect night—far from it, actually. Christine's roommate brought back _yet another_ guy (seriously, this was it; one way or the other she was getting her own damn room next semester) and, while Rhia hadn't _insisted_ on having the room to herself, Christine didn't have time to dick around. She needed to study, which was not entirely unreasonable, she thought, considering it was _Wednesday_ and the beginning of semester crunch time.

Not that she said any of this to Rhia. No, they'd had this conversation several times already and Christine was fed up. So, with more vigor than was probably necessary, she threw her study materials into a bag and left her cozy but too-full dorm room for the less cozy but infinitely quieter library.

Despite impending exams, the study area was barely half-full when she arrived. Christine found an empty table near the back and began to meticulously unload her things. (It was very important to her that everything be where it _belonged._ She didn't care to dissect why, although she suspected it had something to do with the mysteriously unmade bed she'd discovered on a few occasions before she got wise to her fiancé's _extracurricular_ activities.)

Christine didn't know how much time passed between when she began reviewing case studies and when _he_ sat down at her table but it was enough that the interruption wasn't entirely unwelcome. She quirked an eyebrow at the stranger, glancing around and noting that there were far fewer available seats than when last she'd checked.

The man—a few years her senior, she suspected, judging by the wrinkles near his eyes—shrugged in response. "No free tables. I'd go back t'my dorm but my roommate commandeered our room to," he pulled a face and rolled his eyes, "_entertain_ his lab partner."

The Southern drawl and common circumstances were enough to keep any objections Christine might've had at bay. She shook her head, chuckling darkly "You too, huh?" She smiled ruefully. "I'm determined to get my own quarters next semester."

"Best of luck t'you." It was clear they both knew she'd need it. Then he offered his hand—"Leonard McCoy."

Christine gave it a proper shake. "Christine Chapel." They shared a quick smile before turning their attention to their respective studies. As far as meet-cutes went, it wasn't anything special… except that maybe it was because she was still thinking about it days later.

**ii.**

The rest of the semester whipped by at warp speed. Christine kept studying in the library—she really didn't have much of a _choice_ and, more often than not, she'd run into McCoy. He'd usually join her and they'd share companionable silence. A few times they even took study breaks together, chatting a bit here and there.

Christine found out McCoy was divorced, a doctor, six years her elder but behind her at the Academy, had an inexplicable fondness for the mint julep and suffered from aviophobia—something she found hilariously ironic. Likewise, she told him about her failed engagement and how that led her to Starfleet, nursing training, explained why her favorite holiday was Mardi Gras and showed off pictures of the pet gator she'd left back home.

They weren't friends, exactly—they never sought each other out outside of the library—but they were definitely more than acquaintances. Christine suspected they might be something else all together, though she had no idea what that might be. (Except that she did because he was rather ridiculously handsome when he smiled but _so very broken_ and she wasn't looking for a project, especially with her own trust issues, which made the whole thing rather inconvenient and better left unacknowledged. It was much safer that way.)

And then it was summer. Back in Louisiana, Christine didn't think of McCoy—much. It basically only happened when something reminded her of him. Or she ran into a Georgian. Or when she fed her gator. Or if she let her mind wander for long enough. But it didn't mean anything. Really!

They didn't correspond during the break and when they returned to the Academy, Christine was assigned her own room. Which meant she didn't need to frequent the library much anymore. And, really, she preferred silence and solitude for studying, which the library rarely had, so it made sense. (That was totally why. Well, mostly.) The few times she ran into McCoy, she just happened to have somewhere to be (by total coincidence—_honest_), which meant she never had time for more than a few words before rushing off.

In May Christine graduated at the top of her class and was assigned to work at Starfleet Medical for a year while they finished construction on the _Enterprise_. She didn't see McCoy again after that, and she didn't think about him much at all. Truly. Just the occasional stray thought or daydream. (And could she honestly be faulted there? He was damn good-looking with a sexy accent _and_ a brain and Christine was only human.)


	2. III, IV & V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set from McCoy's years at the Academy through the aftermath of the _Enterprise_ destroying the _Narada_ . McCoy's perspective.

**iii.**

Leonard McCoy didn't pine, damn it, but he did have regrets—_plenty_ of regrets. (A few even included another cadet named Chapel.)

There'd been moments—more than one for sure—when he'd thought, _To hell with it!_ and been ready to ask her out. But then she'd look at him with those big blue eyes and he'd known better. He was still all screwed up over his divorce and she wasn't faring much better with her broken engagement; it'd never work. Better to just leave their whatever-it-was (friendship? companionship? acquaintenceship? was that even a _thing?_) alone than to risk messing everything up.

Then one day she was gone. He'd woken up and it was summertime. Somehow he'd landed was back in Georgia. He was miserable, of course, but more so than the last time he'd been there because Chapel was so far away. (Louisiana wasn't _that_ far, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Jim Kirk often pointed out but he pushed those thoughts from his mind. It wouldn't be polite to just show up out of the blue and he might be a cranky ass most days, but McCoy still had manners—and a Mamey who'd box his ears if he didn't use them.)

When fall semester rolled around, he'd returned to his old schedule of studying in the library but Chapel was noticeably absent. Eventually McCoy ran into her (it made sense—the campus wasn't _that_ big and they were both on the medical track) but she'd begged off like her life depended on it. She seemed so… out of sorts. They weren't especially close, sure, but he didn't think they'd left things in an awkward place.

McCoy resolved to put all Chapel-related thoughts out of his mind. (It sounded good on paper; unfortunately, putting his plan into action was a whole _other_ thing.) It wasn't until he caught sight of some graduation holos at the end of the year that he realized what an idiot he was. All that time spent on excuses and for what? There'd been something between them, he knew there had. It was ill-defined, sure, but it could've been real and now she was gone and it was too damn late.

So, yeah. It was safe to say Leonard McCoy had regrets about Christine Chapel. But if he saw her again? (And it was a big if, as far as he was concerned, because space was a fucking big place filled with death and disease.) Well, he didn't plan on letting things lie, that was for sure.

 

**iv.**

When he got on board the _Enterprise_, he didn't notice Chapel at first. No, that wasn't true. McCoy _definitely_ noticed Jim trying to hit on her and how she ducked her head as if trying to hide from him. (Although which _him_ she wanted to hide from, he couldn't be entirely certain of.)

But he was distracted and frazzled and had far too many things to think about just then (not least important his friend who was somewhat ill thanks to him), so McCoy focused on the task at hand and tucked everything else away. His job was the most important thing right then; there'd be time for the rest later.

Of course, what McCoy hadn't known was that _later_ would be after a lot of crazy shit went down including but not limited to Jim Kirk saving the whole fucking planet, another one being destroyed, a ridiculously long surgery on Captain Pike's spine and some nonsense about time travel that made his brain hurt. The _Enterprise_ was on its way back to Earth after all that crap plus almost being swallowed up by a black hole when McCoy finally had a moment to just _breathe._

He was in what was, at least for now, his office, staring at but only half-seeing a PADD when Chapel broke through his daze with a knock on the door frame. (Currently the door was locked open because the automatic mechanism had been broken during all the fighting but was far too low a priority to be fixed anytime soon.) He tossed his PADD aside and waved her in tiredly.

Like him, Chapel had been promoted during their trial by fire and was now the acting Head Nurse. She was currently holding a small stack of PADDs in hand with a weary, if determined expression on her face that McCoy was certain meant business. (He was right and soon enough the pair of them were wrapped up in discussion of how to make a shift rotation out of what remained of the Sickbay staff.)

They poked at the PADDs, working for a good half hour before an unexpectedly loud rumbling from Chapel's stomach interrupted them. McCoy looked at her, eyebrow quirked as he evaluated her. She was pale with dark smudges under her eyes—hardly ideal. (Of course, he suspected he looked about the same, if not worse, but that was beside the point.) "When was the last time you ate anything?" he asked, frowning faintly.

"I don't know," Chapel admitted with a yawn. She put the PADD she'd been working on down and stretched out her arms. "This is the longest I've been off my feet since…" She blinked and shook her head. "Nope, don't remember that, either."

McCoy scowled. "You're going to the mess now." It wasn't a suggestion. "And then to your quarters for _at least_ four hours sleep." He'd prefer more—a minimum of six, honestly—but he suspected that'd be pushing it. (If he wasn't already.) She looked poised to object, so he added: "Don't make me order you, Chapel, because I will." His expression softened a little when caught the concern hiding beneath her indignant glare. "This place won't fall apart without you." He held up a hand as if taking a pledge. "Scout's honor."

Chapel sighed but stood up all the same. "Fine. But you're coming with me." This time it was McCoy that wanted to disagree but the stubbornness in her gaze gave him pause. Did he really want to waste what little energy he had left on arguing about this? "I'll order you if I have to; my fancy new title means I can." And there was his answer.

"That it does," McCoy agreed, moving a bit stiffly to his feet. (What could he say? He was getting older.) "Guess I better do as you say then."

The wide grin on Chapel's face was not exactly what he'd call reassuring. Smug was probably a more accurate term. "Can I get that in writing? I think it'll save us a lot of time in the future."

McCoy snorted. "Mm, you would think that." He rubbed a hand over his mouth, scratching his chin absently. (He needed a shave.) "Pretty sure I'm the boss here, though."

"And _you_ would think _that_," she teased back with a roll of her eyes. "But you're new. I'm sure you'll learn soon enough."

For some reason, McCoy felt like Chapel wasn't just talking about Sickbay. He hardly had time to consider that, though, before he was being dragged out into the main bay and then down to the mess.

 

**v.**

It wasn't until McCoy was walking Chapel to her quarters after a quick but pleasant meal that he realized three things: (1) this was the longest amount of time they'd spent together in a friendly capacity since the Academy; (2) he didn't want it to end; and (3) he was a miserable coward because he still hadn't said word one to her about their thing.

Chapel's quarters were her own thanks to the rank upgrade, although not as large as his. (He was, after all, a Commander to her Lieutenant.) The doors swished open but she didn't head inside, instead peering at him expectantly.

McCoy felt instantly self-conscious, something he couldn't recall happening since he was in primary school. "What?"

"I told you before—you're coming with me," she said. McCoy stared at her, uncomprehending, as she grabbed his hand and pulled him inside the room. "Don't think I can't see the wheels turning in your head; you're not getting back to Sickbay that easily. If I have to rest, then so do you."

Trailing after her, McCoy's lips quirked into a bit of a smirk. "And here I thought you trusted me, Nurse."

Chapel snorted. "Not about this." She sat on her bed and pulled off her boots before laying down and closing her eyes. When he hesitated (this was weird, right? only it didn't _feel_ weird, which actually made him _more_ uncomfortable), she groaned. "Would you get in here already?" Her eyes remained closed but the annoyance in her tone made her feelings clear. "The quicker we get to sleep, the quicker we can get back again."

Finally McCoy toed off his own boots before plopping down on the right side of the bed. (His side, as it happened, but the odds were fifty-fifty there; hardly worth noting.) He pillowed an arm under his head and stared at the ceiling.

"See?" Chapel murmured, eyes still closed. Her voice was heavy with sleepiness, making him feel his own weariness more acutely. "Barely painful at all…"

Despite a propensity to be contrary, McCoy decided to refrain. This wasn't the time to discuss how _not painful_ lying next to her, spending time with her, just being near her was. They were both exhausted (physically _and_ mentally); it would keep for a few hours. He looked at Chapel breathing evenly and smiled. Then he closed his eyes and drifted off, as well.


	3. VI & VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set directly after the previous section. Chapel's perspective.

**vi.**

The first thing Christine was aware of as her mind returned to consciousness was an arm slung possessively over her stomach and a warm body spooning her from behind. Hazy memories from hours before flooded her and her face flushed a brilliant red. Oh God, how could she have been so forward? And with her _boss_ no less! (Newly minted, though he might've been.) Hadn't she learned that lesson already?

She had to be certifiable. Honestly! What the hell had she been thinking?

Well, okay, so Christine hadn't _really_ been thinking at all. Overtiredness was like that. It made her do crazy things like order a guy she kind of used to know (and occasionally still thought about) into her bed. For sleep and sleep alone, thank the Lord but still. It was quite possible she'd just committed career suicide.

Which would have been her chief concern except that the warm body spooning her was kind of distracting. (Yeah, she probably ought to do something about that.)

Christine fought the urge to sigh as she eased out of Leonard's embrace and onto her back. The sense of overwhelming tiredness had lifted but she couldn't quite force herself out of bed. Instead, she turned her head to look at the man beside her. He was still fully dressed (they both were, actually, seeing as neither had the energy to do more than pull off their boots before collapsing) and snoring lightly. He looked younger, she decided, with his hair falling into his face and mouth slightly open.

"Ain't polite t'stare, y'know," Leonard mumbled without opening his eyes. His voice was rough from sleep; his accent was more pronounced, as well. The sound shouldn't have made her heart stutter like it did. 

For reasons unknown, Christine did not at that moment leap out of bed and hide in the bathroom for the sheer embarrassment of it all. What she _did_ do was flush, tugging at the hem of her skirt self-consciously. "I wasn't staring." Studying, perhaps but not _staring._ (She felt relatively confident they weren't the same thing.)

Leonard's eyes opened, and he smirked a little. "Sure you weren't." He reached forward and tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

Christine froze, eyes wide. Leonard's gaze didn't waver as he watched her intently. Christine had the distinct impression he was looking for something. (If she'd had her wits about her, she'd have made a smart comment about it being his turn to stare. Unfortunately, she was too distracted by the backflips her stomach was doing thanks to said searing stare to supply any clever dialogue.)

When he touched her cheek, Christine's blush returned—and brought with it goosebumps on her arms. Leonard leaned forward so their faces were nearly touching. "I'm going to kiss you now." His voice was a whisper, still rough and deep (and damn sexy).

Christine could only nod dumbly in response. He shifted forward to close the last of the distance between them. It was sweet and gentle and all together lovely—exactly the sort of first kiss little girls dreamed about.

After they pulled apart, Christine blinked a few times. "We probably shouldn't do that again," she said, frowning.

"Probably not," McCoy agreed in a similar tone.

There was a moment of complete stillness before they crashed together again in a mixture of lips and limbs. It was all pent-up feelings and passion and frantic energy—and it was _fantastic._ Christine smiled as she shoved at his clothing, eager to be closer. To touch him all over. To see if they really did fit together as well as she'd imagined.

 

**vii.**

Laying naked beneath a sheet beside an equally naked Leonard McCoy, Christine Chapel found herself staring at the ceiling. "So that happened."

"Yep," Leonard agreed. (He was much more agreeable this way, Christine had discovered.)

She bit her lip and looked over at him. "It probably shouldn't again." Because, even though she really wouldn't mind a repeat or two (hundred), he was still her boss and there were regulations and things. Oh and also they'd barely spoken in nearly two years. But who was counting?

Leonard pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Maybe."

Christine frowned. (She hated that he was so damn handsome and all she wanted to do was kiss him until she forgot which was up and that she really _shouldn't._) "Care to elaborate?" she asked in a pointed way that meant it wasn't really a question at all.

"I don't give a damn what anybody else has to say about it—Starfleet included." He cupped her cheek and the corners of his mouth lifted. "I like you, Christine, always have."

"Sure that's not the near death experience talking?" Christine asked with a quirked brow. Because this whole experience had certainly shaken loose a few things for _her_. (Not to say it'd actually changed any feelings but it made her feel brave enough to actually admit some of them).

Leonard chuckled. "Not a chance."

Christine's grin was stupid wide but she couldn't bring herself to care. "Good answer." She kissed his nose before burrowing down into the bed. "Now shove over; you're hogging the sheet."

"Yes, ma'am." Leonard followed suit, casually throwing an arm around her when they were settled and kissing her once below the ear. "Sleep well." Christine hummed her agreement, already halfway to unconsciousness. Now that she had something other than the chaos of the last few days to focus on, she didn't doubt she would. (In other words: it was perfect.)


End file.
